You’ve heard it. I’ve heard it. But at this moment, I’m hell bent on keeping it the reality: Keeping it simple. Culture is already swimming with holiday ideas and trinkets to fill up our time and empty our wallets. This is the time of year when I try and make a point to tuck away into my
At the end of it all, I have hope. We lost our Lochy boy this past week. He ventured a wee bit too far from home (not far as the crow flies, but none-the-less, ended up on a 45 mph country road) and was struck by a car. A pedestrian happened to see him laying
Life Snippets Daily snippets of life in our homesteading madness. Welcome to the party, rockstars.
I didn’t intend to be lambing in winter. Aren’t lambs naturally supposed to come in the spring time? Isn’t that just the way that nature works or something? Oh wait. Shouldn’t I also know by now that nothing just ‘works’ like that? There’s always a few twists and turns to keep us on our toes as farmers.
It was the long, brown curls that hung in front of his eyes that captured my heart. From the moment I first saw Hugh Ferring-Wittingstale on River Cottage years ago, I was totally in love. So when Hugh moved to the country and fell in love with his beloved Dorset sheep… well, I did too.
I decided to crash amongst the chaos, submit to the never ending piles of boxes and trash, and reminisce. I need time to take a deep breath, to really see my surroundings, to really interact with all that encompasses this farm. Because we’ve only got a week left. And then it’s… Goodbye Farm. Sunnier Days
Hello. Can you hear me? Or is my voice muffled through the foot and a half of fresh, powdery snow that is currently covering the homestead? I hope you can hear me. Because I’ve got some things to say, yo. After all – it’s almost Christmas! Time for love and mushy stuff and reflection and
How on God’s green earth have I not told you about Hermoine, Ginny, and Harry yet? (Yes. Those are Harry Potter names. Let’s get over it and move on… because some of us here love H.P.) They’ve been with us for the better part of a month now and after trying to source heritage pigs for
Ya’ll. Thank you for allowing me time to rest… to remember… to reflect after Sal’s passing. I’m most certainly not ‘over it’. Nor am I ‘healed’. But I am very much thankful for the time I had with my girl and that her passing was peaceful. These last few days have been fairly peaceful on
I swear, y’all. You cannot even make this stuff up. Farm life… home life… they continue to just leave me speechless. Ya, speechless. Or screaming. Either one. So take a walk with me down the lane, while we sip on some (potentially spiked) iced chai teas and I’ll tell you a story… While making our